We'll Leave Tonight
by starbuckmeggie
Summary: From Josh's POV; how we got from him leaving work to winding up on a plane. Companion to So Far From Here.


Companion to So Far From Here; you probably don't need to read that to get this one. In fact, you definitely don't have to. But feel free to anyway.

* * *

I'm completely frazzled as I leave the travel agency. This is way outside my wheelhouse. First of all, it was nearly impossible to find one of these places—it seems most people book tickets and vacations online now. While I like to think of myself as a fairly smart person, all of that stuff is beyond me. Emails, political websites, and Google are about all I can do. To my credit, I did actually try to do this online for all of about ten minutes before I found a phonebook and called around. Most places were either only open by appointment, though gave no hint of how to make said appointment, encouraged you to book online, or were out of business.

I did eventually find a number with a human on the other end who seemed terribly confused about my calling, but promised he'd be there when I found the place. It would up being, almost ironically, about three blocks from my apartment—the apartment I'd actually gone back to after leaving the OEOB a few hours before. There guy was there, as promised, and was very helpful as I tried to figure out what would amount to my first actual vacation. He showed me actual brochures to go along with the websites to give me ideas of what I was going for. I told him that I wanted to surprise my girlfriend with something crazy romantic, and he showed me endless pictures of hotels and resorts from all over the world—nothing felt right until I remembered Donna mentioned—years ago—something about me taking her to Hawaii. After that, everything fell into place, even though my head is still exploding over the fact that I called Donna my girlfriend. That may not be too far from the truth—or, at least, it could be the truth, if I play my cards right—but it's the first time I've said that to anyone, even myself. The guy at the travel agency didn't even flinch when I said it, which felt wrong. There should have been some sort of fanfare. Of course, when I told him I wanted to book our flight for tonight, it probably distracted him from anything else, even things he'd have no idea about. He made it happen, though.

The problem I'm having, as I stumble through the afternoon crowds, is figuring out exactly how I'm supposed to ask Donna to go with me. I basically shot her down this morning, and even though she didn't take the bait at the time, she looked…disappointed. I hate that I put that look there. I don't know how she's going to respond to me taking her on a trip. She might take the gesture as it's intended, or she could think I'm an unimaginable ass for presuming that she'd want to go anywhere with me after the way I've been behaving. Like four weeks isn't actually enough time to figure things out. Am I insane? I know what I want from her. I've known it for years.

I stop dead in my tracks, causing more than one person to bump into me. I don't pay attention to their disgruntled noises. I'm such an idiot. This is Donna for crying out loud. Wonderful, sweet, tough, beautiful, caring Donna. I've been crazy about her for years, even if I've only just started admitting it to myself. There's absolutely no reason in the world I shouldn't tell her everything.

I start walking again, faster now, maneuvering my way through the throngs of people. I pull out Blackberry and find the number for the OEOB. I don't even pay attention to who answers; I probably cut off whoever is speaking. "Hey, it's Josh. Is Donna Moss at her desk?"

"Sure! Want me to connect you?" Who the hell works there that's this perky?

I nod, opening my mouth to answer, changing my mind a second later. "No!" I exclaim, not ready to talk to her yet, but only because an idea for a smaller grand gesture hits me. "No—sorry. I've got some stuff to clear up first. I'll give her a call later. Thanks." I press the "end" button on my phone, sure that whoever that was now thinks I'm a spaz. No matter—I'm on a mission.

I reach the front stairs of my apartment building and hurry up, trying to juggle my keys and phone at the same time. I manage to dial information and get connected to cab company as I push my way through my door. I barely acknowledge that voice, either, and spit out, "I need a cab."

"Yes, sir," the voice on the other end answers slowly, probably wondering who let me out unsupervised.

"Can you help me?"

I think I detect a tiny, put upon sigh. "We can certainly try, sir."

"Great. I need a cab at the OEOB—uh, the Old Executive Office Building—as soon as possible. The address is—"

"I know the address, sir," the woman answers, though not rudely. I suppose after working in this town long enough, some places just become ingrained. "I can have a driver there in less than ten minutes. Will that work?"

"That's perfect."

"Can I have your name?"

"Well, it's Josh, but I actually need you to pick up someone for me. Is that okay?"

"Shouldn't be a problem. Can I have that name?"

"Donna. The driver shouldn't have any trouble finding her. She's tall, blonde, and beautiful."

I can hear a quiet chuckle on the other end, and I can't help but grin in response. "I'll pass that information on. And will she—"

"Can I give you my credit card information? I don't want her to have to pay for this."

"Of course, sir."

With relief, I pull out my wallet and rattle off the card number. She repeats the information and confirms the cab's on its way. As soon as she hangs up, I dial Donna's line, my heart suddenly pounding with nerves. My stomach sinks a little with each ring—I thought she was at her desk. Of course, that was a few minutes ago. Things move pretty fast there. She could be on another call, or maybe she had to step away from her desk...this isn't a big deal. Her voicemail picks up and I shake my head a moment later, realizing I've called her cell. Of course. It's the first one programmed in my phone. As soon as it beeps, I start talking, hoping to keep the jitters out of my voice. "Hey, Donna, it's Josh. I need to talk to you, but I'll try you at your desk. Call me back if you get this first." I press "end" and take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves, and find her work number. I wait impatiently as it takes its sweet time to connect, but then it just starts ringing over and over, and my stomach drops even more. It seems unlikely that she can't answer either of her phones. It's more likely that she's avoiding me. Hell, who could blame her? She's well within her rights to be irritated at me. When the voicemail picks up, I try to keep my voice upbeat. "Donna, why are you avoiding me? Your cell phone is always on you, or you're at your desk. If you don't answer one, you answer the other. Doesn't matter. I'll keep calling both until you pick up. You will eventually."

As I end the call, I notice that my phone is almost dead, and that it looks like I have almost no signal. Maybe my calls aren't even going through. I toss the Blackberry on the table, dropping the envelope with the tickets next to it, and grab my landline from the end table, punching in her cell number again. It starts to ring and I feel myself getting disappointed when it looks like she really isn't going to answer.

"Hello?"

My heart leaps into my throat. "Hey! I knew I'd get you at some point."

"Hey," she answers slowly. "What's up?"

"Did you check your voicemail?"

"Just on the work phone. I haven't…" Her voice trails off. "Josh, why are you calling me from your apartment?"

I glance around at my surroundings and shrug. "Because I'm at home."

"Why are you at home in the middle of the day?" Her voice sounds laced with irritation and I can't help but grin. Goading her can be so much fun.

"Top secret mission."

"Then maybe you should stop blabbing about it," she answers snarkily, making me grin even wider.

"Nah, I need your help with it, actually," I tell her, tugging my tie loose.

She snorts. "Right."

"How soon can you get to my place?"

"What?"

I smile again, pressing the phone between my ear and shoulder, working at the buttons on my shirt. "How soon—how fast—can you get over to my apartment?"

"Josh, it _is_ the middle of the day. The middle of a workday, no less. "I can't just leave and—"

"Technically, I'm still your boss, right?" I ask, managing to undo my cuffs without dropping the phone.

"Technically, I suppose, though only in a _very_ technical sense." She sounds irritated. I'm guessing that's still a sore spot for her. "Where are you going with this?"

"Well, as your boss, I'm giving you permission to ditch work and come over here." I pull off my shirt and give it a sniff, wrinkling my nose. I haven't done a lot of physical activity today, so I can only imagine the stress has been oozing out of my pores.

"Josh—"

"I'll call the president-elect and let him know you'll be out of the office for a little while, if you want. He won't have a problem with it." I toss my shirt over to one of my chairs, hoping if I keep talking, she won't have a chance to tell me why she doesn't want to see me.

"Josh—"

"Please," I say, my voice quiet. "Please, Donna. I'd really…I need to see you. Please?"

She's silent—agonizingly silent—for a few long moments. "Okay," she finally answers.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Just when I thought I couldn't smile any harder. "That's…phenomenal! How soon can you get here?"

"Depends on if I can get a cab or if I have to take the Metro."

"Cab's faster," I answer immediately, feeling immensely pleased with myself for managing to plan ahead.

"True, but only if I can catch one right now. Otherwise, it'll be just about the same to ride the rails."

"'Ride the rails,'" I mutter teasingly, suddenly unsure of how to let her know that I've taken care of this.

"What? What's wrong? What did you do?"

I can't help but chuckle—how does she do that? "Wrong? Why would you assume that?"

"You really want me to answer that?"

"No, not really, no." I shuffle to my bedroom, unbuckling my belt as I go—if she's on her way over, I should try to look presentable. "What if I told you there was a cab waiting for you outside?"

"There's a cab waiting for me outside?" she asks, her voice laced with disbelief.

"What if there was?" I tug off my suit pants and toss them toward my dry-cleaning pile.

She sighs, but I can hear rustling on the other end—hopefully that's a good sigh. "I'd call you incredibly cocky."

I sit down on the edge of my bed, smiling goofily. "How about incredibly hopeful?"

"Maybe I'd call you sweet."

"Sweet, huh?"

"Maybe. Only if there's actually a cab waiting for me."

"Well, it should be there," I tell her, flopping backward on the bed. "If not, it will be in a few minutes."

I can suddenly hear her heels clacking and can only assume she's in the stairwell. "You're actually serious. You called a cab to come pick me up?"

"If it's still sweet, then yes, I did. If it makes me creepy, then no, I did not. The cab waiting outside is just a coincidence."

She giggles a little and I can hear the sound of cars honking and people chattering. "I'll be damned," she whispers.

"So, you'll come over?" My heart pounds. What if she says no? She could change her mind.

"Josh…I'm already outside, looking at the taxi. Why is there any doubt?"

"Just making sure."

"Do I need to give the driver the address, or…"

I mentally smack my forehead. How did I miss that? "You'll need to tell him where to go. I didn't want to be presumptuous." She snickers and I guess I can see her point. "So, I'll see you soon, right? It only takes about fifteen minutes even with traffic. If you're not here in half an hour, I'm calling out the National Guard."

"Or you could call me first, make sure I haven't gotten stuck behind the motorcade or something."

God, her voice is like…hot fudge—all smooth and delicious. "Where's the romance in that?"

"I guess you have a point."

My body reacts almost violently to the sound of her voice. "Okay, so…get in the car! I mean, please. I really need to talk to you, all right?"

"Okay, I'll see you in a few minutes."

"Okay," I answer. A million other things are on the tip of my tongue. I want to say certain words to her, but…the time isn't right. I don't want to do that on the phone. "Bye." I hang up before I say something stupid.

I drop the phone and sigh, stretching my arm out across the bed, running my fingers over the place she slept just two nights ago. It somehow feels like forever. It's only been one stupid night since she was here and it was miserable. If I squint my eyes just right, I can almost see her blonde hair on the pillow, and see her slight form under the covers.

I snap myself out of it suddenly, sitting up. I can't just lie here and think about the last time she was here when she's actually going to be here soon. I sniff my undershirt, not surprised to find it's worse than the button down, and yank it off. I really wish I could shower, but I don't think I have the time—that'll have to wait until after I get everything squared away. Still, I jog into the bathroom and wet a washcloth, wiping down key areas so that maybe she'll be willing to get close to me. After that, I dig out another t-shirt and a sweater and jeans, trying to pull them on as I dial the president-elect's direct line.

"Hello," he answers, sounding chipper, and I choose to believe that it's because he's expecting his wife on the line and not because he's doing without me for a week.

"Mr. President-elect," I respond.

"Hey, Josh," he says, his voice suddenly weary. "What's up?"

"Nothin'. I just wanted to let you know that Donna's going to be out of the office for the rest of the afternoon."

"Donna? Is everything all right?"

"Yes, sir. Everything's fine."

I'm met with silence. "What am I missing?"

"Nothing at all, sir. I just wanted you to know that, if you needed anything from her, she wouldn't be there today."

"All right…" he answers slowly.

"Which brings me to my second question—"

"Was there a first question?"

Funny guy. "I know that I'm technically in charge of the staff and all right now and you have enough on your plate with literally everything else going on, but since I'm gonna be gone for a week, I just wanted to make sure that you'll be all right if Donna's gone for a week, too."

I'm answered with silence again, though this time it's so deep that I think he's hung up on me. "Uh, sir?"

He clears his throat. "No, that shouldn't be a problem," he says, and I can swear I hear him laughing. "You two have a good time."

Fingers crossed, if she's willing to come with me. "Thank you, sir."

"Oh, Josh?"

"Yes, sir?"

"What's Donna's position going to be?"

I nearly swallow my tongue; I definitely choke a little. "Excuse me, sir?"

He snickers, apparently taking great delight in my discomfort at his unintentional double entendre. "Donna's position. In the White House. I'm assuming you've offered her something. I'll find a place for her myself, if you need me to."

I smile fondly, feeling immeasurably proud of the woman she's become. The president elect _and_ the first lady in waiting want Donna on their staff. I cringe, then, realizing that this means neither Donna nor Helen Santos have mentioned anything about the Chief Of Staff position. "Oh, you might want to talk to your wife about that, sir."

"My wife? What's Helen got to do with this?"

"I've got to go. I'll see you in a week."

"No, Josh, talk to Helen about what?"

"Goodbye, sir." I end the call and toss the phone on the bed, staring at it in shock. I've just hung up on the next President of the United States. Granted, he was being less than presidential, and he really needs to talk to his wife about the job she's offered to Donna. It sure as hell isn't my place to get involved.

I press my face to the window, hoping to see a cab pull up, even though I know it's unlikely from this angle. It really hasn't been long enough, either. I force myself to finish zipping up my jeans and pull the sweater over my head. I go back out to the living room and grab my dirty shirt, tossing it in the general direction of my laundry. I look around at the mess that is my apartment, and for a few moments, I attempt to clean up. When I realize all I'm doing is moving clutter from one spot to another, I give it up and go to stare out the window again. I can hear my mother's voice in my head—"A watched pot never boils"—but patience isn't usually one of my virtues. I feel like Donna should be here by now. I glance at my watch and confirm that it's already been about fifteen minutes since we hung up. I force myself away from the window again, this time grabbing my Blackberry. It takes me another minute or two but I manage to find the charger for the thing, though I'm hoping I won't need any of it for a while.

A noise in the hall catches my attention and my head snaps up. I freeze. Was that the door to the stairs? I strain my ears, but the carpet in the hallway does a good job of muffling any sounds. I start my door, almost as if I'll be able to see through it if I try hard enough, and I swear I see a shadow at the bottom. I rush over and yank open the door, Donna's shocked face and wide eyes on the other side. My heart nearly explodes from happiness, and it occurs to me in that moment that I may never have truly been happy before right now.

"You're here!" I exclaim. I don't even think before I reach out and pull her to me, kissing her. For about half a second, I get no response from her—almost enough time for me to panic. Her head tilts suddenly, her mouth yielding beneath mine, and her arms wrap around my neck. She gasps a little into my mouth, and I grin as I realize I've managed to dip her. I don't think I've ever done that in my life, not even when my parents made me take dance lessons as a kid.

I come up for air, making sure my grip on her is tight and that she doesn't feel like she's going to fall. "You're here," I whisper, trying to make myself believe it. She just smiles and presses her lips to mine this time, though the kiss remains fairly gentle. I carefully bring us both upright.

When we pull apart this time, her grin takes up her entire face, and I swear it lights up the entire apartment. "Well…I guess you're happy to see me."

Somehow, I feel myself smiling even more broadly than before. I grab her hand and pull her inside, kicking the door shut. We only make it a foot or two inside before I start to feel overwhelmed, but not because this is suddenly too much. There are just so many things I want to say to her. I don't even know where to begin.

"What's up, Josh?" she asks, and I can't help but leer at her playfully. She just rolls her eyes. "Well, yes, I know about _that_. What's going on?"

"Oh, _that_ ," I tease. I grab the collar of her coat and slide it off her shoulders, tossing it over the back of a chair. I take her hand again and bring her to the couch, sitting us side by side. For a few moments, I'm utterly fascinated by the feel of her fingers laced with mine. I have no idea where to begin. Do I talk to her first? Do I start off with Hawaii? This is so far beyond my area of expertise, it's humiliating.

"Okay, seriously, what's happening here? Am I dying? Are you? Did—"

"I want to wake up with you," I blurt out, watching her eyes go as wide as saucers. There was probably a better way of saying that.

"What?" she breathes, her voice barely audible.

"I want—I mean—I shouldn't—ah, hell. No, I want to wake up with you."

Her mouth opens and closes a few times, and it may be the only time she's ever been speechless. "Uh…"

I barrel forward. "So, I know we haven't done a lot of the actual sleeping and waking up together thing yet, but seeing you next to me has been one of my favorite parts. Not that the sex isn't amazing! Because it's fan _tas_ tic, but there's something about waking up and seeing you there that has made me happier than I ever imagine it would. So, I want to do that. More of that. I want to see you in the morning, regardless of whether or not we had sex the night before. I want to do this with you."

"This?" she asks, her expression so open and hopeful.

"This," I answer. "Us. Life! Whatever. I mean, the world sucks sometimes, and things can look pretty bleak, but they've always seemed more manageable with you next to me."

"Josh…what are you saying to me?"

What _am_ I saying to her? It feels like every word in my head is falling out of my mouth, but it's probably not making a lot of sense to her. "I'm saying let's do this. Let's try it. Let's figure it out together. Wherever you are is where I want to be, and no matter where you go, I'll follow you." It's cliché, but everything suddenly feels so clear and easy. "Look, Donna, I have my head up my ass most of the time. I focus on work too much. I don't pay attention to what's going on around me unless it's politics. I'm very single-minded…tunnel-visioned. Monomaniacal, if you want. Whatever. But, I don't think I want to live like that anymore. No—I _know_ I don't. I want to enjoy life while I can, and a big part of that is being with you. You make my life better. You make me happy. I know this isn't necessarily the discussion you wanted to have, but I'll get there. I _want_ to talk to you. I want to figure out how to do this with you. It may come in bits and spurts, and I'm not going to be good at it. Actually, I'm really going to suck at it, and I'm going to need you around to help me, you know, not suck. But I don't need the four weeks—three weeks and six days—to figure out what you mean to me because you mean everything to me. You kind of have for a long time." I take a deep breath, not sure if I even breathed the entire time I was talking. I squeeze her hands, using them to anchor me to the ground, and wait.

She lets out a breath and my heart lurches when a single tear slides down her cheek, but she just laughs and wipes it on her shoulder. "Wow."

I knew it—I came on too strong. "Too much? That was too much, wasn't it? I'm sorry—"

She kisses me, very effectively cutting me off. "That wasn't too much," she whispers, her lips still close to mine. When she pulls away, she takes my face in her hands, her thumbs running softly of my cheeks. She gives me a huge smile. "That was great."

Relief floods though me and I pull her into my arms, pushing her back carefully until I have her pressed against the arm of the couch. I kiss her thoroughly and she giggles, running her fingers through my hair. I trail my lips down her cheek, stopping for a moment at her ear, before I settle on her neck.

She shifts and groans. "Josh, your couch sucks."

"It does?" I ask, much more interested in the feel of her skin beneath my lips. She laughs again.

"Yeah. It's all hard and formal. Where the hell did you get it?"

I shrug. Am I supposed to know that? I move over to her throat. "Decorator. Needed new furniture." Though, I can't remember why.

"Well, it sucks."

I look up at her and grin. "So help me pick out another one."

She blinks at me. "What?"

This is a good idea. I can't imagine why she didn't help pick out the furniture that's already here. "Help me find one that's comfortable. That way, when you kick me out of bed, I'll have somewhere half decent to sleep."

Her mouth drops open, so I lean in to kiss her again. She gives my chest a little push and I sit us up, though I refuse to let her go.

"So, will you?" I ask, finally coming up for air.

"Will I?"

"Will you help me find a suitable replacement couch? Something that's a little more home-y?"

She looks shell-shocked. "Uhh...I…I guess. Maybe. Let me think about it."

I shrug—whatever she's comfortable with is fine by me. "I'll take it." I reach under her knees and swing her legs into my lap, sliding closer to her. She runs her hand down my face, her fingers tracing over my smile lines, and I lean in to kiss her again. I can't help it. She's very kissable, and she's letting me do it. I readjust my grip on her legs, taking a chance and slipping my hand up her skirt. I'm honestly not trying to put the moves on her—I just need to be close to her. The feeling seems to be mutual because she pushes herself closer, her arms tightening around me. She turns her head, breathing heavily, and I immediately relocate to her neck. Her neck really is magnificent, and it seems to get her all revved up.

"Josh?" she asks, her voice so soft I almost miss it.

"Hmm?"

"Why are you wearing jeans?" And you still haven't told me why you're home in the middle of the day."

"I haven't?" I pull my hand from her skirt and cup her cheek, gently turning her back to me so I can kiss her again. Nothing else is registering at the moment—just the need to kiss her. I do that for a few more minutes before her questions really sink in. I don't know if now is the moment to ask her to go on vacation with me, but I guess it's as good a time as any. "I have a question for you." I kiss her a few more times for good measure before I pull back, smiling. I reach over and grab the envelope off the table. I try to explain what it is, but no words will come out. Instead, I just hand it to her.

"What's this?" she asks, turning it over in her hands, and I can't help but roll my eyes.

"Open it."

She sighs but lifts the flap, her eyes going wide a moment later. She swivels on the couch next to me, planting her feet on the floor. "Josh…"

"Donna…"

"These are plane tickets."

"They are."

"Two plane tickets."

My girl's observant. "Yeah. Did you happen to check out the destination?"

She looks at the tickets gain, her mouth dropping open in shock. "Hawaii?!"

"Yes." It hits me that I thought of her as "my girl," and I wonder if that's okay now.

"Are you serious? Hawaii?"

"You've never been, right?"

"Of course I haven't! But… _you're_ going to Hawaii?"

"Hope to." God, I hope to.

She stares at me, incredulous. "And you want to take…me?"

I shrug. "It's not worth going if you're not with me."

"I just want to be clear—"

"Mrs. Santos asked you to think about the Chief of Staff thing, right?" She nods, so I barrel on. "What better place to think about a major life decision than in paradise?"

I watch her throat bob as she swallows. "Josh, you're—"

"Will you go to Hawaii with me?" The words fall out of my mouth without any eloquence, and part of me wishes I could take it back—not the asking her part, though. I could never regret that. I just wish I could do a better job of it. She stares at the tickets and my heart pounds at an unhealthy pace. Is she going to say no? She's been good with all the kissing and the talking, but maybe this is too much. Maybe she just wants to—

"When do we leave?"

Just like that, all the tension drains from my body and I press a relieved kiss to her lips before leaning my forehead against her. "Tonight."

"I'm sorry; what?"

I don't blame her for wondering if she's hearing me correctly. "Our plane leaves from National tonight, about four hours from now."

"You're joking, right?"

"I need a vacation," I answer simply, wrapping my arms around her. "The only way it's going to feel like one is if you're with me. I know it was presumptuous of me to buy the tickets and make the hotel reservation before I ever asked if you wanted to come with me, but I took a leap of faith. If nothing else, I know you need time to decompress as much as I do."

"Hotel reservation?" she breathes, running her fingers over the tickets slowly.

I'm not typically one that has an eye for details, and the guy at the travel agency helped a lot, but I'm particularly proud of this detail. I want to show her how much she means to me. "Wait 'til you see it, Donna. It's this amazing bungalow right on the water. There are these big glass doors that face the water, and our bed looks right out to the ocean. There's a hammock and lounge chairs and a hot tub…it's kind of secluded but part of a larger resort so there are a few restaurants nearby, and there's a pool, if you get tired of the Pacific…it's incredible. I think you'll like it. We could leave the doors open while we sleep, get the ocean breeze at night. I don't know if you've ever had the chance to sleep on the water like that, but it's really unbelievable."

She's silent, but it doesn't feel like a bad quiet. She leans against me as she stares at the tickets in her hand; I could swear I can hear the wheels turning in her head as she processes everything. "Can you get the time off?"

I kiss her check, nuzzling at her after. "Yeah, it was no problem."

"But who's going to…"

"Sam's here." This is the first time in hours I've thought about my friend—the friend that I coerced into potentially moving across the country. "He's going to help while I'm gone, Goodwin, too. We have a lot of very capable people, as it turns out. We can leave the country in their hands for a few days.

"Sam's here?"

"Yeah, he showed up this morning. He's still thinking about it, but he's agreed to look after things while we're gone. I don't think we're going to have time to stop in and see him before we leave, but we'll have a chance to catch up with him when we get back."

She pauses for a few seconds before she bursts out laughing, making my heart plummet into my stomach. Does she think I'm kidding around? Is the idea of going away with me—of just being with me—that funny? "What?"

"Is this really happening? We're really leaving tonight to go to Hawaii?"

Relief floods through me—it's just the situation getting to her. "If you still want to."

She laughs again and launches herself at me, knocking us both off balance. She buries her face in my neck. "Yeah. Yeah, I still want to go." I hug her tighter, happiness like I've never felt in my life coursing through my veins. "Can _I_ take the time off?"

"As your boss, I have most definitely already approved your absence. Is four hours going to be enough time for you get everything together? Because we probably want to try to get to the airport a little early, just in case, so you it's really only about three hours."

"I'll make it work," she says, and I can already see her mind organizing and making plans. "I'm going to have to go to my building and dig through the storage area to find clothes and bathing suits, and I'll have to go back to CJ's to get the basic stuff. You can pack for yourself, right?"

I can't help but feel tickled by her. "Yeah." I grab her hand. "Hey; don't feel like you have to pack a lot of clothing."

I can see the retort on her lips—how she can't pack light for a trip to Hawaii—just seconds before she catches it. "Pig," she tells me, though without malice. "So, what—sunscreen and a smile?"

My mouth dries at just the thought of it. I haven't seen Donna naked so many times that it's commonplace. Truthfully, I don't know if I'll never _not_ be wildly turned on by her bare form. "Sounds good to me," I choke out. I tug her hand, pulling her back to me, and kiss her softly. It still blows my mind that I can do this with her; just kiss her like it's the most natural thing in the world.

"I have to go," she mumbles, though she doesn't bother to stop kissing me.

"Mmmhmm," I agree absently. She probably does, but I'm having a hard time actually letting her go.

"Think that cab's still waiting for me?"

I break away with a laugh, already missing her lips against mine. "Probably not. Want me to call for another one or—wait. You know what? Hang on." I reach into my pockets for my keys, remembering a second later that I changed after I got home. I stand, tossing aside a few pillows on the couch, searching between the cushions. I was definitely in a daze when I got here—I'm lucky I didn't leave them in the lock. I push around some of the crap on the coffee table with luck, so I go and check the table by the door—if they're not here, maybe the bedroom, but—"Ah-ha!" Success. I toss the keys to Donna. "Here. Take my car."

"Josh, no."

"Take it. I know your car finally died over the summer, and you need a way to get around right now."

She holds them in her hand doubtfully. "How are you going to get to the airport?"

I shrug; I haven't given it any thought. I just knew I wanted Donna to use my car. "Cab, probably. Maybe the Metro—the airport _is_ a Metro stop, you know. I don't really have anywhere to be between now and then, other than maybe the drugstore, but that's just a couple of blocks away." I'm sure there are other things I need to buy, but all I can think about is getting more condoms. I still have a stash here, but I plan on us having a lot of sex in Hawaii—never hurts to be prepared.

"Are you sure?" she asks, standing.

"Donna, you've driven my car before. I trust you. Do what you need to do. If you have time, drop it off here before going to National. If not, drive it there and leave it in long-term parking. I don't care. Whatever gets you on the plan to Hawaii is fine with me."

Her arms slide around me, and she leans in for a kiss. "Thank you."

I can't help but linger at her lips for just a few more moments. I've never had this much fun kissing another person in my life. "You should get going," I finally tell her. "Unless, of course, you want to stay and…" I leer at her and she grins in response, slapping my ass. That's the first time she's ever done that; hopefully, not the last.

"If I crawled into bed with you now, there's no way we'd make our flight."

"Oh _really_?" I like the sound of that.

"You wouldn't be able to move."

She's killing me. "Sounds promising."

"The thank-you-for-taking-me-to-Hawaii sex is going to be substantial. I don't think you'll have use of your legs after."

I shudder—she's going to kill me, and I'm going to love every second of it. "I can live with that."

"Can you live with spending all this money on a trip to Hawaii only for us to never make it out of your bedroom?"

"Absolutely," I answer without hesitation, almost before she's finished asking. Being with her is the important part; I don't care where it is."

We stare at each other for a few long moments and while I can't speak for her, I definitely get lost in her eyes. There's so much in them now that I've never noticed before. "Get out of here," I tell her, knowing I won't be able to resist her much longer. I grab one of the tickets from the envelope. "Take this with you, just in case."

"I'll see you in a couple of hours?" she asks, putting her ticket carefully into her bag.

"I'll be the one who can't stop smiling." My cheeks already ache from it all, but I'll take it, especially considering the alternative. I watch as she shrugs into her coat and put a hand on her arm, leading her to the door. She turns to me at the threshold, putting a hand on my chest. I'm sure she can feel my wildly pounding heart.

"Seriously…thank you," she whispers, the look on her face making my knees weak.

"Thank you for saying yes." I lean in to give her another kiss. "Now, really, get out of here before I…strip you naked and tie you to the bed."

"Save it for Hawaii," she tells me, her eyes actually smoldering, and I groan, holding onto the doorframe for support.

"You trying to kill me?"

"Not before you have a chance to tie me up."

Cold shower. I'm going to need a very cold shower. "See, you say things like that, and I don't know if you're kidding."

She grins from ear to ear, eyes twinkling. "I guess you'll find out, won't you?"

I groan. I can't picture Donna tied to a bed right now. I can't. I push her as gently as possible into the hallway. Go. Now."

She bites her lip just a little and turns, sauntering down the hall. I force myself to shut my door so I can't watch. Once inside, my legs all but give out on me and I slump against the wall, trying to convince myself not to run after her. I want to tell her to forget the trip—let's not waste any time on a plane. We can stay here, turn off our phones, and ignore the world. We can make love for hours, only coming up for air to shower and eat.

In the end, though, I let her go. _She_ deserves this vacation, and that's the part that matters.

There's an ache in my chest right now, though, and I realize it's because I miss her. Already. It's only going to be a few hours before I see her again, but it already feels like it's been too long. Is this why I was such a bastard for most of this past year? Because being without Donna is an actual ache?

Well, yes, that's a good part of it—there's no denying that. There's more to it, though. Even more than the fact that just her presence makes me a better person, and that she's the yin to my yang. This ache right now is deeper.

I run my hands through my hair, tugging at the ends. There's an actual hole inside of me right now because she's not there. What the hell is that?

…Love. It hits me like a ton of bricks. If I were a cartoon character, a piano would have just fallen out of the sky and hit me. I love her. I'm in love with Donna. This should terrify me. Somehow, though, I feel more at peace than I have in a long time, and I realize at that moment it's because I've been denying this for so long. How long have I loved her? Does it matter? Is it incredibly cheesy to be sure that I've loved her since I was born, I just had to wait to find her?

God, I better not ever share that thought with her—she'd have me committed.

Why did I fight this for so long? All of it—being with Donna, being in love…I feel like a weight has lifted from my shoulders. Fight it has been exhausting.

Hopefully, she'll feel the same way about me. Maybe she's not there yet. Maybe I should wait a while to tell her. I've essentially declared my intention to do the rest of my life with her—maybe telling her I love her will completely freak her out. Maybe, for the moment, it's enough that I know.

I check my watch and make myself stand up. I need to pack. It's doubtful I actually have anything that remotely resembles beachwear, but I might be able to make do. There are some shops between here and the drugstore—even though it's November, maybe one of them will have something suitable.

I grab a couple of bags and start digging through drawers, part of me wishing I'd let Donna pack for me. She'd have been done by now. I might as well get used to her controlling my life completely…well, more so than she used to.

I grin and start shoving stuff into a bag, not particularly caring what it is. I don't have all that long to get to the store before I need to catch my flight. And I really want to see her again.

My future is waiting for me.

* * *

I feel like this is cheating. But I had the "tell it from Josh's POV" idea and finally wrote it down. Again—didn't take much brain power on my end. I wanted to post something, though. One of the smut-fests I wrote is really long (heh heh), like 13,000 words long, and I need to go through it to see if there are any natural breaks. I think it needs to be in slightly more manageable chunks.


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